


Bloodlines

by Finntrollhammaren



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Angst, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Flashbacks, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Paranoia, Pickles just needs charles, Trauma, he's having a hard time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finntrollhammaren/pseuds/Finntrollhammaren
Summary: Post-Doomstar. AU where Charles never stepped down as their Manager and went with them to rescue Toki. He was somewhat fatally injured and Pickles witnessed it firsthand. He has since healed almost perfectly, but Pickles has nightmares about it and always needs to see and feel Charles to make sure he's real.Unestablished relationship. Mostly.





	Bloodlines

**Author's Note:**

> I keep having ideas for oneshots. I rewatched Doomstar again and ended up getting the idea. How Doomstar should have went, imo (I'm glad Charles isn't dead but I will forever be a little salty over him quitting).

It never got any easier. The nightmares had become a regular thing in his life, and Twinkletits had tried almost every prescription he could think of to try and make them stop-- but nothing really worked. Nothing long term, at least. He would be nightmare free for maybe a few nights and they would come back, as if his mind had beat the drugs he was given to torture him further. He just wanted them to stop. Would they ever stop? It had been a month since they all came back from Toki's rescue mission-- and everyone seemed to be handling it better than he was. Even Toki and Abigail. So why was he unable to get over what happened? Overall, he was able to get out of it unscathed (minus a few gashes and bruises, maybe). 

But it had nothing to do with him. It was Charles. He had insisted, per his contract, that he could not refuse protection. It was his job. He said he absolutely had to come, or he would have to stop them from rescuing Toki at all (his other option was to resign, but before he could even suggest it Nathan cut him off with a loud 'NO'). The band at the time had reluctantly agreed, knowing Charles was fully capable of holding his ground (he did get in one-on-one combat with the metal masked assassin and won more than once) and figured it would be smart to have him around. Someone that was able to literally come back from the dead was someone you wanted having your back. 

Things had been going.. alright, for the most part. The group had finally figured out where Toki and Abigail were being held, with the help of the High Holy Priest Ishnifus. Pickles remembered all of them being cornered and thinking 'This was it, we are going to die'. He remembered instinctively grabbing Charles' hand and gripping it so tightly as hope seemed to fade-- before Ishnifus was able to provide an exit for them to get away-- and promptly being killed by the assassin. Pickles let go of Charles and avoided eye contact as they continued, hoping it wouldn't be mentioned later on. In his defense, he thought they were about to die. It was appropriate.

Then, it happened. They found Toki and Abigail, and in the midst of trying to get them off of the crosses-- the assassin appeared. Charles was keeping watch at the time, having no actual weapon aside from a rock he found amongst the rubble of the building. While the rest of them were too focused to notice what was going on, Pickles happened to look over just as Charles was being hoisted in the air like a.. cat or a rag doll before being promptly sliced across the chest with what looked to be a sharp blade of some kind-- more than once. Toki and Abigail were freed and Charles was thrown across the room by the assassin, ready to finish his job and destroy the band for 'killing his brother'. 

The prophecy was fulfilled and they were all able to successfully defeat the assassin, and Pickles cursed repeatedly under his breath as he ran over to Charles and ran out with him, mumbling "It's gonna be fine. You'll be okay." over and over to Charles the entire time. There was.. a LOT of blood. They were able to get him treated back at Mordhaus, but all Pickles could remember was how broken he looked. The way he used what little strength he had left to grip onto Pickles' shirt, coughing up blood and getting it all over his already blood stained shirt. Probably had a few broken ribs, at the least. He didn't remember what the prognosis was. But... he lived. Charles lived. He healed much faster than any normal person would, and the rest of the band started to wonder if he really WAS human. 

That's all he could remember. Over and over. Nightmares of that man picking him up, nearly being gutted like a fish, and tossing him aside without a care in the world. Sometimes the nightmares weren't perfect recollections of what happened. Sometimes they were just nightmares of Pickles being tied to a chair while he watched Charles slowly get tortured to death, and he usually woke up screaming his name. It was hard. It never got any easier. Even if Charles appeared to be unaffected by it. Maybe he just forced himself to not remember. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"CHARLES. CHARLES. I NEED CHARLES. SOMEONE GET ME CHARLES RIGHT NOW." He woke up shouting around three in the morning, a few klokateers hearing him from outside and scrambling to find the man that was being requested. This wasn't the first time this happened, so they were getting used to it by now. Since Charles was able to get around on his own, he was having to stop by the drummers' room at least once every couple of days just to calm him down. It all depended on how bad the nightmare was that particular night. Sometimes his presence was only needed for a couple of minutes, and others he was stuck there almost all night reassuring him that he did NOT die in the nightmare he just had, and was perfectly healthy and alive (mostly).

Pickles laid in his bed as he waited for his Manager's arrival, chest heaving up and down as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away the images of his subconscious, telling himself that none of it was real and Charles was most definitely alive. But.. he needed to check. He needed to make sure. He heard the door open and he forced himself to open his eyes again, anxiously looking over to see Charles, standing in his suit but looking visibly tired. Did he even get a chance to sleep yet? He hadn't seemed to change into his pajamas yet. That usually meant he was having trouble sleeping in his own way, and buried himself in work to keep himself busy.

"C'mere. Please." He piped out, watching Charles take a few steps forward and gingerly sit himself on the side of the bed. Pickles shook his head at that, scooting to the side and lazily patting the empty spot beside him. "Lay down. I jus' wanna.. wan' you here. Please." He whispered, watching the other man raise an eyebrow at the request but complying anyway, maneuvering himself into a comfortable position where he was laying down with his hands clasped together in his lap and his head against the pillows. "Is everything okay, Pickles?" he finally spoke, lolling his head to the side so he could get a better look at his face. It was pretty apparent that Charles was exhausted-- but he always put the bands needs before his own. Especially Pickles. Especially now. He needed Charles more than ever.

Pickles shook his head quickly, feeling weak to admit something like that (it wasn't very brutal) but knowing that Charles was the least judgmental person he knew (ironically enough) and that he would understand why he was being like this. Experienced it first hand, after all. "Had the nightmare again." He said, rolling onto his side and reaching out to unbutton Charles' coat. Charles moved his hand to stop him at first, but eased up when he could see the drummer had tears welling in his eyes. It had to have been BAD for him to almost be crying like that. He wasn't much of a crier. "Ah." he mumbled in response, watching his jacket fall open and tensing up just a bit. It was a natural reaction. This didn't happen very often, if at all.

"Nev'r gonna get used to it." He added, using a free hand to wipe away the tears in his eyes as he refused to cry in front of Charles. Not again. He already did that when he was first injured. Bawled like a baby while he was being taken away and worked on. No more. Crying over nightmares was just a waste of tears. Pickles removed the manager's tie and started to unbutton his white shirt, and Charles gripped his wrist to stop him from continuing. "What are you doing?" he asked, his breathing now more shallow than usual. Charles seemed... nervous. It wasn't much of a surprise. It was the first time Pickles deliberately tried to see the scars. Every other time he just.. couldn't handle it. "I wanna see. I gotta." He said, more to himself than to Charles.

Charles let him continue with a reluctant sigh, afraid of what his reaction would be. Although he healed quite well there were still some pretty nasty scars adorning his upper chest and abs, still an angry pink colour due to how fresh they were. He was afraid that Pickles would freak out, jump away and avoid looking at him altogether. It would be the first time in general any of them had actually seen his bare chest-- the only time they got close was when he was dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night in his robe. This felt much more intimate than that. It was just him and Pickles. In Pickles' bed. Together. No biggie.

Pickles unfastened all of the buttons and took a deep breath, pulling back the fabric on each side to reveal Charles' chest. He was speechless for the first couple of moments, his hand clasped against his mouth as a weird choking noise came from the back of his throat. It looked... brutal. But not in a good way. It was finally hitting him again what Charles had been through. Those scars would probably never fade-- he would always have some vague outline there. Battle scars. They showed that he survived. Against all odds, Charles Offdensen survived something that would have killed any other normal human. Maybe their god powers rubbed off on him a bit. Is that how it worked? Were superpowers transmittable?.

He stopped nearly sobbing and lowered his hand from his mouth, gently reaching out and placing a hand on his chest. Charles seized up upon contact, sucking in one deep breath before exhaling to calm himself down. The intimacy was more than he was used to, and he was having a hard time figuring out how to react to everything. "Yer real. 'Nd alive." Pickles pointed out, one finger gently tracing along the thick pink scars. Charles stared up at Pickles, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek gently. "Yes, Pickles. I am very much real and alive. I know.. the nightmares won't go away on their own, but I promise I will not be going anywhere." He said confidently, smiling a bit as he lowered his hand back down to his side.

Pickles laid back down, grabbing the blanket and draping it over both him and Charles as he placed his arm over the others chest. "Can ya stay here tonight?" he asked, yawning and looking up at him with both eyebrows raised. Charles sighed, nodding a bit as he wrapped his own arm around the red haired man's waist to keep him nice and secure. "Of course. It's no trouble." He felt himself yawning as well, remembering that it had been almost an entire day since he last slept. Ugh.

"Hey, Charles?" Pickles said after the lights had been turned off and they had both gotten comfortable, Charles cracking one eye open before clearing his throat. "Yes, Pickles?" He mumbled, sleep very much taking over his voice. He was a tired man. So very tired.

"I love you. Hope... thas' okay." He whispered, cheek resting against Charles' chest as he got nice and close. The closer he could be, the better. Maybe then he wouldn't have the nightmares again the moment he fell asleep.

"...I love you too, Pickles. Goodnight." Charles said quite confidently, since he was more than sure of how he felt after all the years of turmoil they had been through together. Trauma really helped you figure out when you loved someone, he supposed.

Pickles smiled, drifting off to sleep all wrapped up in the man's arms.

The nightmares didn't return that night.


End file.
